


Comfort

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [38]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gaslighting, Victim Blaming, cws in authors note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26676565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Heather Duke is concerned about leaving Heather Chandler alone with her parents.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Heather Duke, Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara, Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Heather McNamara, Heather Duke/Veronica Sawyer
Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053590
Comments: 25
Kudos: 138





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> CWS: discussion of rape, victim blaming, mentions of self harm

Heather jumped at the sound of her phone ringing. It was late - just past 10pm - who would be calling now? She quickly grabbed it to stop the ringing, because if it continued, her parents would absolutely come in and complain about the noise even though it was Saturday night and they wouldn’t be going to sleep for a while, and their house was detached so it’s not like they’re waking neighbours. They just liked to complain at her about making the slightest racket.

Pushing her homework aside, she placed the phone next to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

On the other side she instantly recognised Chandler’s voice. It was quiet, a bit too quiet.

“Hi,” Heather replied. “What’s up?”

“Um…” Chandler clicked her tongue on the other end. “Should I beat around the bush or be blunt?”

“Whatever works best for you, I can talk all night so long as I’m quiet.”

“Okay.” She paused to take a breather. “I just needed to talk to someone. Just because… I’m trapped in my house again since my parents came back and, well, I’m doing better than I was, but there’s only so much you can say to your cockroaches over a weekend.” Her voice then trailed off.

“Mhmm?” Heather prompted, mildly concerned.

“I guess I’m just scared I’m going to hurt myself again,” she finally said.

“Oh…” Heather bit her lip worrisomely.

“It’s not because I want to,” Chandler clarified. “But… I don’t remember doing it last time. I’m scared it’ll happen again, and I won’t know I’m doing it until it’s too late.” Her voice was hoarse in a way that made Heather’s heart break. She didn’t like her sounding so vulnerable, it was almost scary. “I know it’ll be okay when I go back to school, there will be more to think about then, but all day I’ve just locked myself in my room and it’s taking a toll on me.”

“You haven’t gone downstairs?”

“Well, yeah, to get food, but that’s it.” A weak sigh. “I wanted to see how long I could get away with my parents not seeing my hair. It didn’t last long.”

“Oh.” Heather frowned. “What did they say?”

“My mother said,  _ “Heather, why would you do that to your beautiful hair? Why can’t you appreciate what you have instead of carelessly throwing it all away?” _ while my father’s convinced I went out of the house to get it done since it’s too good to be done by me - which is true - but either way he’s pissed as I’m meant to be grounded.”

“That sounds shit.” Heather bit her tongue. “You look nice with short hair, you know.”   


“Well, thanks. Martha seemed to like it.”

“Huh? Martha?” Heather echoed, confused. “When did you-”

“You know on Thursday when I disappeared?” Chandler said. “I went to Betty’s. Well, I went to her house first, then she wasn’t there, so I went to Martha’s instead.”   


“...Why?”

“To apologise,” she replied. “You know, for… everything.”

“Oh. How… how did that go down?” Heather doubted that Betty would have been happy to see her. She knew she had a distaste for her, and she couldn’t exactly blame her, or anyone who Heather Chandler had victimised for that matter.

“It went surprisingly okay,” Chandler said. “Martha’s pretty willing to move on, Betty less so, but I think she’s still willing to give me a chance, so I better not fuck this up.”

“That’s good,” Heather said. She wanted to be more excited, but what Chandler had told her moments ago was making her anxious. "Are you feeling more confident about coming back to school then?"

Chandler hesitated. "A little. I just know it will be rough seeing Veronica and Mac again. It's… been a while." She sighed wistfully. "I've been thinking about it all weekend. I can't stop myself - it's not like I have much else to do other than think."

_ Thinking in your state is bad, _ is what Heather wanted to say, but stopped herself. She didn't want to worry her any further. Instead, she silently formed a stupid, uncharacteristically impulsive plan in her head as she continued to talk. God, Chandler really was having an effect on her, wasn't she?

"Will you be doing lunchtime poll when you get back?" she asked. There was a small pause on Chandler's end, probably due to the quick change of topic being slightly baffling, but she still answered.

"Why wouldn't I? That's my thing."

“I’m just wondering.” She began to look around her room; it was pretty big, there was a lot of space, she wondered just how much more she could fit in here without it getting too messy or noticeable. She had a lot of space under her bed too - she never liked to use storage space under there due to knowing how cluttered it can get, and sleeping on top of a mess like that would stress her out. “I can deal with it though.”

“Deal with what?”

Heather realised she’d spoken out loud and cleared her throat. “Nothing, just talking to myself.” She tried to remember how much space she had in her closet. “Have you come up with a question for lunchtime poll yet?”

“...Oh yeah, I’m meant to do that.” Chandler paused. “Uh, is no one else coming up with one?”

“Veronica’s been coming up with the last couple of questions, I’ve been doing the actual job. I don’t think they’ve come up with one for this week though, since they knew you were coming back.”

“They? Who’s they?”

Heather raised a brow at her phone. Did Chandler seriously not pick up on the switch in pronouns before?

“Sorry, I meant Veronica.”

“Okay?” She seemed confused, and while Heather would have loved to explain, she didn’t feel like it was her place. If Veronica wanted Heather to know, they would say so. Until then, coming out was a job for them to do. “I guess I’ll come up with one then.”

Heather hummed in thought as she considered how much space there was on her bed. Her bed wasn’t big, but it wasn’t tiny, and she didn’t take up much room anyway. “You want me to help you with that?”

Chandler lightly chuckled. “I’d appreciate that a lot, actually.”

“Okay, let’s get to work then.”

“Wh-  _ now? _ ” she whined. “Heather it’s  _ late! _ ”

_ Yeah, well, you’ll be busy tomorrow. _ “Get it over with so you have one less thing to stress about on your last day before school.”

Chandler let out a disgruntled groan. “Fine, let me go get a pen."

Heather snickered. She knew she couldn’t keep her for long, her getting a good night’s sleep would be useful for the, admittedly very stupid, plan she had for tomorrow.

But as much as she liked to plan out and know what her next move would be several steps ahead, sometimes she had to let her worries get the best of her if it meant stopping someone from getting hurt.

Especially when that someone was somebody she… really liked, let’s just say for now.

* * *

Heather wasn’t entirely sure why her parents  _ still _ insisted on asking her if she wanted to come to church. It had been over a year since she’d stopped going entirely, why would she suddenly change her mind? Either way, not replying to them was always a good way to get them to leave her alone, and now she was listening intently to the footsteps downstairs, waiting for the door to finally close so she’d know she was free to roam wherever. Not that wandering her house would be effective in distracting herself from anything, but it was better than being stuck in her room. In fact, visiting Martha's house had made her realise that isolating yourself in your room wasn't a common thing - how could you keep yourself sane in such small spaces? People actually go downstairs and sit with their parents in the living room? Now that's bizarre.

Despite being lost in her thoughts, she heard the door shut downstairs, followed by the rumbling of a car soon after. Letting out a sigh of relief, she stood up from her bed and left her room, hurrying downstairs to not only get herself breakfast, but her pets some too. She grabbed a pre-made waffle from a packet and began to devour it, all the while tearing some leaves off of some lettuce. She ran back upstairs as if she would be caught at any moment, placing her waffle on the bed so she could open her pets' tank up and place the leaves inside. There was still a bit of food left from last time she fed them, but it wasn't quite enough. Watching them crawl out of their hiding places to investigate what had been given to them, she placed the lid back on top of the tank.

She sat down to finish her half-eaten waffle, only to hear the doorbell ring. Frowning, she chose to ignore it, that is until it rang again. Groaning in frustration, she dropped her breakfast and hurried downstairs, opened up the door and came face to face with Heather Duke.

"Heather?" she questioned. "You realise my parents are home, right?"

"No they're not, I just saw them leave." Duke smiled. Heather rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean. They won't be gone for very long."

"For a few hours, and that's all I need." She slipped past Heather with ease, to Heather's chagrin.

"Heather, I'm already on thin ice!" she exclaimed. "If they catch you in here I may never leave the house again." She followed her down the corridor and up the stairs. Duke looked backwards and studied her curiously.

"Since when do you care about consequences?"

"I don't, but I'm not stupid." They made it to her room where Duke finally stopped. "Heather, if you're here because you're worried about me, don't. I'm fine, honestly."

Duke seemed to be too busy observing her room in a calculated manner.

"Do you have a suitcase?" she asked.

Heather stared at her, baffled.

"Yes? Why?"

“How much of your stuff can you fit in there?”

Heather’s brows furrowed. “Heather, what are- why are you here?”

Duke walked over to her closet, not looking at her, but instead through her clothes inside.

“Heather?” Heather repeated, marching over to her. "Heather, seriously-"

She placed a hand on her shoulder, and when she did, Duke finally turned around and shot her with a serious look.

"I…" Duke bit her lip, her brows knitting, stitched with worry. "Heather, I don't want you to be alone right now."

"Huh?"

"You're trapped in a house with your parents and you're not allowed to leave other than going to school. You're incredibly alone right now."

Heather frowned. "No need to rub it in."

"I'm just scared something will happen to you," Duke muttered, entering Heather's closet to grab and pull out a medium sized suitcase, putting Heather on alert. "So I'm doing something very untypical of me, and that is acting incredibly impulsively and breaking you out of here. Call it Heist Mission part two."

_ As if I need to have anything more in common with JD. _

"You're telling me to move out," Heather said with a scoff. "Heather, that's ridiculous." Amused, she went over to sit on her bed, grabbing her waffle and biting into it. "Where would I live?"

"With me," Duke said, having stopped going through her clothes to stare her down.

"Your parents hate me," Heather said. "They'd never let that happen."

"Who says they need to know?"

"You can't just hide me in your room. I'd need to use the bathroom, you know. And what about food?"

"You think I'm not a master at hoarding food in my room?" She raised a brow. "As for the bathroom… we'll figure it out."

Heather just snorted. "Heather, I appreciate the concern, but honestly, that's all unnecessary. My mind just wandered a bit last night - it  _ always _ does during late hours. I'll survive the next few weeks of being grounded here, I promise."

Duke's nose scrunched up with concern. "I don't want to risk it."

Heather threw her head back and groaned. "Okay, well, even if I did go with you, what would happen to me when I come back here, hm? You think my parents will welcome me back with open arms? Because they won't, they'll be even more mad." Suddenly more invested in this conversation than hungry, she threw her waffle aside.

Duke scoffed. "Sure they will, but what are they gonna do to make anything even worse, really? Lock you in your room?" She walked over and sat down next to her. "I wouldn't be suggesting this if I didn't think you weren't going to be safe. I'm doing this because I don't think you're safe  _ now. _ Your parents may suck, but they've never gotten physical with you, right?"

"Well, no… not even in an affectionate way."

"Then I don't think they're going to hurt you, but I'm scared  _ you _ will if you're all by yourself for the next few weeks."

Heather dropped her gaze. "I won't be alone. I have school."

"Not every day."

"I can't just  _ leave, _ Heather."

"Why not?"

"Because it's my business whether or not I can handle staying here with them," she replied. "If I end up hurting myself because I decided to lock myself in my room, then that's on me."

"No it isn't!"

“It is.”

“Heather-”

“Heather, I can’t leave my parents!” she exclaimed. “It doesn’t matter that they’re shit, they’re still my family. I’m stuck with them no matter what.”

Duke leaned a little closer, her gaze almost accusing and causing Heather to tilt away from her.

“Says who? You know they’re awful to you. What, do you have some sort of obligation to stay with them?”

Heather’s leg began to bounce and her eyes would dart everywhere around the room other than to Duke in some attempt to avoid answering, but it seems her jittery movements were a good enough implication anyway.

“Heather, you’re allowed to cut off your family, or at least avoid them as much as possible.”

“Then why don’t you?” Heather turned back around on her. “You’re old enough to move out. You always tell me about how much you hate living there - why do  _ you _ stay?”

Duke raised a brow, as if the answer were obvious. “For financial support? For Bear’s sake? You realise I plan on moving out as soon as I get accepted into college, right?”

Heather blinked at her. “But you’d come back and visit, wouldn’t you?”

Duke thought about that for a total of three seconds, deciding with a confident tongue click,

“If they’re lucky.”

“But…” Heather shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to, I don’t blame you, but wouldn’t you feel, I dunno…  _ guilty _ if you never saw them again?”

“Why would I feel guilty? It’s their fault that I don’t wanna be around them.” Duke searched her expression, picking apart the flimsy cover up that Heather wore, just like she always did. Once she ripped off the mask, her gaze softened. “You don’t feel guilty cutting them out, do you, Heather?"

Her name was soft on her tongue, putting Heather at ease and letting her relax as she confessed with a simple nod.

“Why do you keep defending them?” Duke shuffled closer until their sides were pressed together, her hand on Heather’s hand that gripped her knee. Heather shrugged, but it appeared that Duke knew that there was an answer threatening to slip off her tongue. Knowing she couldn’t cling to it with her gentle, yet consistent tugs, Heather let the words out.

“Because… I don’t know, I guess a part of me wonders if things could have been different.” Hearing it out loud made her burn with shame, and so she turned away, dragging herself out from under her comforting touch. “I’m not stupid - I know why they don’t like me. Even if I  _ was _ a planned child, I’ve always been such a handful. I couldn’t read, I was awful at listening, I never followed rules, never understood them. Even when I tried following them, I just couldn’t.” The nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, Judy’s ADHD explanation could come into play for all of that was at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t focus on it just now. Besides, an attention deficit disorder couldn’t explain why she was such an irritating child.

“I don’t know, Heather, just everything that I am, none of it is what they want. I’m not intelligent - academically speaking, I’m not business savvy, I’m not modest, I have no faith. Instead, I’m a bitchy, egotistical, slutty rape victim who has no clear plan for the future.” She scoffed at herself. “I’m all the things they despise, and I have never stopped wondering how different things would be if I was a type of person they could respect.”

She glimpsed back at Duke, who seemed to be unpacking everything that she had just said, trying to come up with a decent response.

“Okay, ignoring the rest for a moment - Heather, you being a rape victim isn’t some sort of quality they’re allowed to hate,” she said. “Even if it were acceptable for them to dislike the rest, what kind of parent is going to bitch to other parents about their kid and say, ‘oh, your kid’s majoring in Performing Arts? Yeah, well, my kid’s a rape victim. Disappointing, to say the least.’”

Heather rolled her eyes. “I know it sounds ridiculous, and I know it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop it from being true. Except, they wouldn’t tell anyone about it - they’d be too ashamed. Well, other than their church, I suppose.”

“And you don’t see this as a good reason to ditch them for good?”

“I’m just saying, imagine if I’d gone down a path that they would have wanted!” She laughed crudely. “Would they actually care about me then? Would they listen to me, could I sit with them without fear that my true self will shine through? Would they  _ love _ me?”

Duke grabbed her hands and trapped her in her gaze. “Heather, them not loving you has never and will never be your fault - loving your kids is something that parents should do unconditionally.”

“I  _ know _ that and I  _ know _ it’s not my fault but… that doesn’t stop me from thinking,  _ what if? _ What if I had just been born a different person - would I be so fucked up then? Why did being like this end up in me getting so fucked up in the first place? Should I have just listened to them to end up okay? Were they just… right all along?” She sank into her hands, but glimpsed at Duke over the top of her fingers sadly. She locked eyes with her and was met with a sympathetic gaze, one that grew closer, that made Heather feel warmer the closer she got, even though she knew she simply couldn’t show the affection she wanted to share with her, not now.

“Heather, if that’s how you feel… especially now, when you’re incredibly vulnerable… that’s a  _ really _ good reason to get the fuck out of here.”

Heather’s brows knitted as she thought, not about the actual proposition being given to her, but by how impulsive it was for Duke to even suggest. Surely, if  _ she _ was so worried about her that she was willing to sneak her into her damn house just to keep an eye on her, it was the more reasonable response, more reasonable than whatever bullshit her parents had fed her. Though a weight sat on her chest, begging her to stay put, after everything she’d learned and everything she’d been told both by other people and by herself on repeat, listening to Duke felt like the right thing to do, even if she wasn’t fully convinced it was yet, Duke was surely right about this.

“If they take away my house keys, I’m blaming you,” Heather said with a grunt, standing up and hurrying over to her closet. “We have maybe an hour and a half before they come back - will that be enough time to pack everything?”

“Sure. We don’t have to grab  _ everything, _ just anything you don’t want to part from for very long, or at all.”

“That’s most things in my room, but sure, I’ll sacrifice some things.” She was about to begin pulling her clothes off of their hangers to fold them up, when something occurred to her. She turned around and shot Duke a questionable look. “Something I’m not willing to sacrifice, though, is  _ them. _ ” She pointed across the room, to the opposite corner, to which Duke followed her finger, puzzled at first, before the realisation settled in and she groaned with contempt.

“Just… keep them away from the bed,” Duke muttered, staring at the tank. “And don’t take them out of the tank when I’m around.” She glanced back at her. “They can’t get out of there, can they?”

“Not if I seal the tank.”

“What… what happens when you don’t seal the tank?”

“Well, they  _ may or may not be _ escape artists, so-”

“ _ They’re escape artists? _ ” Duke screeched, pulling on her hair. “So I could just find them crawling around my room? What if they lay eggs in my  _ bed? _ ”

“No! They wouldn’t survive that long outside the tank, they’d get too cold.”

“ _ So I’d find them dead on my floor? _ ”

“You won’t find them  _ anywhere _ other than their tank!” Heather exclaimed. “Do you want me to come with you or not?”

Duke took a deep breath. “Yes,” she replied. “Just promise me they won’t lay eggs in my room.”

“I promise. They’re not the right conditions for breeding - you can calm your tits.” She turned back around and began pulling her clothes off of her hangers. “Now, should we fold these, or just throw them in your car?”

“We… we fold them, Heather. Why would you pile them in my car? Isn’t that incredibly messy?”   


Heather stared at her for a drawn out moment, before pulling out one of her drawers, not breaking eye contact. She let the drawer slip out of the slot and fall onto the floor, spilling out the chaotic mess of socks, tights and other small clothing items, with a total of maybe two pairs of socks actually paired up together, the rest in a colourful jungle of odd clothing items. Duke’s eyes were glued to the pile, face struck with awe, before her hands slowly came up to cradle her face to muffle the long, disappointed sigh that she let out as the burden of letting Heather living in the same space as her truly settled itself in.

“Heather, why don’t you just  _ tuck the socks in together. _ It takes  _ two seconds. _ ”

“Yeah, well, how many socks do you see here?”

“Too many.”

“Add all those two seconds up and it would take me like two minutes to tuck them together.”

“That’s still just  _ two minutes. _ ” Her hands dropped to her sides so she could glare at her.

“Two minutes too long.” She kicked the pile to get a better look at the variety. “Should I just shove all these in a box or something? No use organising them when I’ll be taking them all anyway.”

“I… yeah, that’ll save us a  _ lot _ of time.” Duke walked over to her, side-stepping around the pile as if it were infectious. She came to stand in front of her closet and began to gently pull her clothes off of their hangers, folding them as neatly and tightly as she could. Heather had to pause and watch her do it, fascinated by how delicate she could truly be. She always knew she was a bit of a neat-freak, but watching her in action was fascinating. Only, she forgot to stop staring up until Duke looked up at her curiously. Heather tore her eyes away, knowing full well if she got lost in her gaze she’d be drawn towards it until there was no space between them left, and right now that just couldn’t happen.

Instead of thinking too hard about how she was going to survive living with someone who she wanted, and who wanted her, but neither of them could have, she began folding up her clothes (in a slightly less neater fashion than Duke’s, but it was only because her hands were quicker) and moved the conversation along.

“So… are Mac and Veronica okay with this?” she asked.

“Okay with what?”

“Me living with you for however long.”

Duke’s motions paused for a short moment, before she continued to fold up her clothes and add them onto a neat tower as if nothing was wrong.

“They don’t know yet.”

“They don’t?”

“I only thought of this idea last night with you on the phone, I haven’t had time,” she said, looking up at her seriously. “Also, there’s nothing for them to not be okay with. I’m letting you crash at my place for several nights in a row - big deal. And if they knew the reasons behind it, they would want me to do it."

"Are you sure?"

Duke blinked at her dumbfoundedly. "What do you mean, 'are you sure?' You're acting like they don't still care about you."

Heather shrugged. "They're not talking to me and from the sounds of it they've been doing just fine without me. It's hard to believe they miss me all that much."

Duke sighed. "Just because they're mad at you and going on with their lives as usual doesn't mean they don't still care about you. You can be mad at someone and still love them - if being angry at someone meant you hated them then we would have parted ways years ago."

Heather huffed, bemused. "I see your point." The more she thought about it too, the more she realised that, Veronica especially, would never want her to end up hurting herself and for her to ever think that either of them wouldn't care to bat an eye at her doing so was ridiculous. "You're right, I'm overthinking things."

"I'm usually right," Duke quipped. Heather scoffed.

"Just because you've started wearing my colour doesn't mean you have to be so cocky."

"Technically it was  _ my _ colour first."

"Since when?"

"Since middle school? I suggest you wear red  _ once _ and suddenly it becomes your whole personality."

"Red looks  _ good _ on me, that's why you suggested it in the first place."

"True, and your actual favourite colour wouldn't suit you at all." She grabbed a black hoodie, pausing just before folding it. She pressed it under her nose and inhaled, then eyed Heather curiously. "Is this Veronica's hoodie?"

Heather stammered. "I… I forgot to give it back after the heist." She stared at the clothes in her own hands. "Or, I kept meaning to give it back but it was really soft and reminded me of her so I just… held it sometimes." She bit the inside of her cheek sheepishly. "Or wore it, occasionally."

"Don't tell me you fell asleep with it."

"Okay, I won't." She remained silent, until the hoodie was thrown at her face and she yelped.

"You're a sap and I hate that everyone thinks you're as stone cold as a brick wall."

"I know for a fact you don't hate me," Heather grunted as she pulled the hoodie down. Duke pursed her lips and looked away.

"You know what I mean," she mumbled. Heather quietly exhaled through her nose as a silence fell upon them, until she decided to break it again.

“Also, what do you  _ mean _ blue wouldn’t suit me?”

“It wouldn’t! It’s not your colour at all.”

“Maybe as accents. It would match my eyes.” She placed the back of her hand under her chin and fluttered her lashes. Duke snickered, rolling her eyes, before folding her last item of clothing.

“I better go and pack some of your other stuff. We don’t have that much time, you know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Heather said. “Don’t worry about being too neat, just don’t break anything.”

“Don’t tell me to worry about being  _ neat. _ ” She began to rummage through her makeup, picking out the most full or unopened items to take with her, whereas Heather would have most likely grabbed her favourite items regardless of whether they were nearly empty, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Living with me is going to be a riot then.”

* * *

It had taken them about an hour to get the majority of Heather’s things to Duke’s car, and several more things into her own. They had basically ran out of room and so some things were left behind, but that was fine. Heather was sure she wasn’t leaving forever - her third favourite glasses and fourth favourite mugs would be there when she got back. So would the photos on her vanity - she didn’t see much point in taking those, because again, she’d come back soon enough.

“Is that everything?” Duke asked, looking around her room. Heather’s closet, drawers, desks and so on were practically empty at this point, she had never seen it so barren.

“Yeah,” Heather said. “At least, it will be, just after…” She trailed off as she walked over to the corner of her room and picked up the last two items she needed - her tank and the spray for it. “Hold the spray for me?”

“Yeah, I’d prefer that.” Duke snatched the spray out of her hand, noticeably avoiding even touching the tank. “I’m not sure where you can balance that without it tipping over in the car.”   


“Eh, it can sit on my lap.”   


“Next to me?”

“I’m driving my own car, Heather.”

“Okay, good.” She looked relieved, even though it’s not like her sitting next to her with the tank would be much different. Heather could only roll her eyes and follow Duke back down the stairs for what felt like the hundredth time today - God, she couldn’t wait to collapse onto a couch or a bed or  _ something, _ her legs were aching from all the climbing. Even sitting down in her car was a relief. She threw her head back and let it land on the back of her seat with a thump.

“I’m surprised we got all of that done in just an hour,” she commented. “This had all better be worth it.” She glanced at her hand, still bandaged but less painful now, though she had avoided using it for lifting heavier things to be on the safe side. “Hopefully Heather will have a good spot for you both to sit,” she added, lifting the tank up to search for them. As she did, though, the tank tilted slightly tilted and the lid, to her horror, slid right off. She froze, knowing full well the lid was meant to sit tightly on top, unless…

“ _ Shit, _ ” she cursed with a hiss. “I didn’t put it on right!” Panicking, she got a close look at her tank, holding it up for as long as she could before it began to weigh down on her sore hand. When she saw nothing, her heart fell into a pit of dread, only relaxing when she saw a pair of antennae moving underneath a leaf. At a closer look, she could see the rigid head of Peanut. The rest of her search, however, found no sign of Almond.

“ _ Oh my God! _ ” she screeched. She frantically got back out of her car and placed the tank on her seat, this time sealing the lid on  _ right, _ as she heard the click she was supposed to hear, before running back towards her house. She ran past Duke in the process, who seemed to be ready to go, with her car keys in hand. She shot her an odd look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Almond’s gone!”

“Huh?”

“One of my cockroaches escaped!” She stood at her doorway, trying to think how long the lid would have been open for. “Fucking hell, she could have escaped a whole hour ago! She could be  _ anywhere! _ ”

Duke seemed genuinely worried, which if she weren’t shaking from fear, she’d appreciate.

“Okay,” she said calmly, walking over to her. “We have some time before your parents get back - let’s just go look for her.”

“You’ll help me?”

“She’s your pet.”

“But what if  _ you _ find her?”

“Then…” Duke grimaced, looking as though she was going to gag. “I’ll… either fetch you or pick her up myself.” She swallowed thickly. “Please be the one to find her.”

Heather could only think to tightly hug her in that moment.

“Thanks so much,” she said, breaking the embrace quickly before dashing back into her house and up the stairs, hearing Duke’s footsteps somewhere behind her. She began her search straight away, starting with the desk the tank had originally been sitting on. She looked under it, pulled it out, and found nothing. She shoved it back into place and began crawling along the floor, searching under all surfaces before pulling them all out as well, every time both rushing and also being careful as to not accidentally place a table leg onto an unsuspecting insect that could be anywhere.

“How far could she have gone?” Duke asked, off on the other side of her room.

“Anywhere! These things can climb glass - they don’t need wings to get far.”

“Uh oh.”

The two of them continued looking, crawling on the floor like dogs and looking on the walls and ceiling and thinking any sort of dot or small shape is Almond. Heather got disappointed every time she realised it was just a bottle cap or a crumpled up piece of paper, and only grew more desperate the longer she searched.

“What if she isn’t in my room?” she griped, now pulling out drawers that Almond would very unlikely be able to find a way into. “We can’t possibly search the whole house and find her in time.”

“In time meaning, before your parents get home, or before… what?” Duke asked from inside her closet. Heather swallowed thickly.

“It’s far too cold for her to be out of her tank for very long.” She slumped against her bed, legs splayed across the floor in defeat. “That, or my parents will find her. And my mom  _ hates _ cockroaches - she hates all insects. So if she saw a giant cockroach on the floor…”

“We’ll find her!” Duke assured her. “Oh! Is that…”

“What?” Heather shot off the bed and stared at the closet.

“Oh… no, it’s a hairbrush handle."

"Wouldn't recommend touching that."

"Um… why?"

"I've used it for things other than brushing my hair."

A short pause, and then,

"Heather,  _ why?" _

As deflated as she felt, she let out an amused huff. "Sometimes you just have to improvise."

Duke came stumbling back out the closet, shaking her hands as if trying to dry them. Now, that was just rude.

"I am going to look in the bathroom… and wash my hands while I'm there."

"Good luck," Heather huffed, watching her scurry out of her room. The little joy she had left with her, and she hopelessly sighed to herself, staring up at the ceiling she wouldn’t see for days and nights to come. She knew sitting on the floor and doing nothing would do no good for Almond though, so she disgruntledly pulled herself onto her bed instead. She stared around her mostly empty room, with the exception of furniture, of course, furniture that Almond may be climbing on, or maybe she found a crack in her wall and was crawling around in the attic. If that was the case, she was fucked, because that attic hadn’t been touched in years and was definitely teeming with spiders, and as much as Heather loved insects, she could only  _ appreciate _ arachnids, and from a distance at that.

“Why didn’t I just seal the fucking lid?” she snarled to herself. “She’d be safe then.”

Her wandering eyes landed on the half-eaten waffle sitting inside its wrapper, still on her pillow. She figured she ought to throw that out; she wasn’t hungry anymore, and if she left it there for God knows how long, then she may come home to find her bed  _ teaming _ with cockroaches, only none of them would be wingless and make cute little hissing sounds. She leaned over and picked up the wrapper, waffle flopping back and forth inside, and as she carried it over to her trash can, her grip shifted, as it often did, and when her fingers landed on something solid underneath the plastic, a faint, yet distinguishable  _ hiss _ came out of it. Having just stopped next to her trash can, about to drop the wrapper in there, she stared down at it in amazement, opened it up further and saw that underneath the opaque label was a familiar reddish-brown creepy crawly, clinging onto her waffle and most likely having an absolute  _ feast. _

“ _ Holy shit! _ ” She grabbed Almond and pulled her off the sugary treat, hugging her against her cheek without squeezing too hard, though clearly there was a little pressure as she heard yet another hiss, this time loud and clear right next to her ear. “Heather! Heather, I found her!”

She heard footsteps run back down her hallway and Duke appeared, seeing the cockroach held against her face and letting out a big sigh of relief.

“Oh thank God, I was so terrified I’d have to pick her up,” she admitted. “Where was she?”

“Eating my goddamn breakfast,” she said with faux betrayal in her voice. “I didn’t think to look in a fucking waffle wrapper.”

“No, me neither.” Duke snorted in amusement. “Well, good thing we found her, now let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s.”

The two of them speed-walked back down the stairs and through the long hallway towards the door, relieved to finally be able to leave after all that effort, and the thought of escaping the dread she felt being trapped with her parents was becoming more and more appealing by the second. They opened the door, stepped outside, and were ready to hurry towards their cars to get the hell out of there, and they were so close to doing so, up until,

“Heather?”

Heather was sure she felt her stomach twist and get sucked into a bottomless pit of dread when she heard that piercing voice. She froze in place, Almond clutched against her chest and out of view, with Duke having paused just behind her. Heather looked down the pathway and saw her father’s car, parked on the side of the road rather than the drive, due to Duke’s car having occupied his usual space. Sharp clicking of tall, thin heels were travelling down the pathway up to the door, and stopping just a few feet away from her was the cold stare of her mother, straight, auburn hair catching the sunlight in a way that could have blinded Heather, long, modest dress covering everything but her shoes, hands, face, and ugliness of her soul. Perhaps she didn’t try to hide it because she had no idea it was there, or maybe it was something only Heather could see, and she wondered if that meant it was real at all.

“Heather, what do you think you’re doing?” Her mother spoke with a snappy tone, one that she was sure was supposed to sound irritated, but to Heather, it felt like stabbing pains in her chest. “We made it clear to you you’re grounded - that means no  _ friends _ over.” She eyed Duke up and down with suspicion; though she’d never been fond of her friends, Heather knew she had a preference towards Duke than Mac, likely due to her matching up to her idea of ‘maturity’. It was completely ludicrous, of course, Heather knew that maturity simply excluded any sort of autistic traits that Mac showed, which were always perceived as childish.

“I…” Heather’s mouth grew dry as she found herself trapped underneath her mother’s gaze. She desperately wanted to look at Duke to gain some sort of confidence, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Don’t treat her like a child, dear.” The low voice of her father, one that would be soothing if it held any sort of emotion, still lingered further away, due to having stopped by his car to either take items out or simply to lock it. “She knows very well she’s grounded.”

Her mother huffed in agreement. “You’re right, Joel.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin. She wasn’t much taller than Heather - she’d passed down the same genes to her, after all. But Heather wasn’t wearing heels, only wedges, and they were nothing compared to the stilts that were her mother’s white shoes. “Heather,” she said in a sharp tone, making her jolt and pulling all attention towards her. “Care to explain why you have friends over despite knowing  _ full well _ you’re grounded?”

Heather’s mouth remained open as she tried to find her words. Usually she would feel humiliated by the thought of anyone seeing her in such a state, but when standing before her parents, the thought of speaking out scared her much more.

She wasn’t sure she would have answered at all, thinking she would have just silently taken whatever telling off she was about to be given and waited until it was all over, until a hand landed on her elbow, thumb stroking her arm soothingly. If she wasn’t caged under her mother’s stare, she would have turned around to mouth Duke a “thank you”.

“I didn’t think you’d be home for a while,” she muttered. She wasn’t doing herself much favours, but she had no idea how to save herself.

“Right,” her mother grunted. “Well, say goodbye to your friend, we’ll talk about this in the house.”

Panicking, Heather finally looked to Duke, who seemed completely unphased by her mother’s words. She didn’t move, and in fact seemed confident enough to hold her head high and stay put.

“Heather?” Heather whispered. “Heather, it’s no use - just go.” She glimpsed back to her mother, who was impatiently waiting. “This was never going to work, let’s face it.”

Duke widened her eyes at her. “You’re just giving up like that?” She turned back to her parents, seeing as her father had caught up with his wife and was now standing by her side. “She’s not going back inside that house.”

Heather froze with terror, only her eyes being able to move back and forth between Duke and her parents, who both looked dismayed and yet curious, almost like this wasn’t as much of a surprise than it was yet another one of their daughter’s stupid antics.

“ _ Heather! _ ” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You can’t tell them-”

“Heather isn’t staying here,” Duke said more sternly, her glare not faltering. “She’s coming with me.”

“I…” Her words were stolen again and all she could do is look back at her parents. She expected to be met with enragement, only to find her mother crudely snickering, while her father remained deadpanning at them both.

“Heather, tell your friend you two won’t be apart for long?” her mother cooed in a patronizing tone. “You’ll see her tomorrow in school, dear. No need to strike out to see her.”

“That’s not what I-” Duke stepped forward to try and argue, but Heather cut in quickly.

“They’re right, Heather. You should just go.”

Duke whipped around to glare at her. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “You’re just going to give up?”

Heather shrugged. “What else am I meant to do in this situation?” She laughed, almost ashamed of herself. “The whole point of this was to escape without them finding out, and it looks like we failed. You should just go, Heather. This was never going to work.”   


“You don’t really think that, or we wouldn’t have spent the last hour packing your shit.” She said that louder than Heather would have liked, meaning both her parents heard it loud and clear. Seeing her mother and father frown and looking over to both of their cars, clearly full of Heather’s belongings, Heather snapped her head back to Duke and glared.

“ _ Shush! _ ”

“What? Sorry, can’t hear you, you’re banned from using that word with me,” Duke dismissed.

“Not in this situation I’m not!”

“Heather.”   


Wincing, Heather turned back around to face her parents.

“Why are your belongings in there?” her mother questioned, gesturing to their cars. Her voice was no longer snappy, but now low and seemingly calm, which was all the more eerie. Heather felt her heartbeat fluctuate in her chest, and had there not been a cockroach enclosed in her hands, she would have been fidgeting frantically. Right now, though, all she could do was drum her fingers on one another.

“I… um…” She tried to think of something,  _ anything _ that could form even the flimsiest lie, but she couldn’t think of anything that could save her here. How the hell do you explain to your parents why you packed all your shit, seemingly ready to leave for good? She looked back to Duke, desperate for some help, but found that this was clearly Duke’s plan all along, by how her brows were raised and her head tilted forward slightly, gesturing for her to speak. “I just… well…” What the fuck is she  _ meant _ to say? The truth? If she wanted to lose access to her own fucking house keys, maybe.

“You what?” her mother prompted. “We don’t have all day, Heather.”

Grimacing, Heather stared at the floor. She was embarrassed that Duke had to see her like this - this state was only something for her parents to see and no one else. If anything, this was all yet another defense mechanism. If she acted anything like she did in school with her parents? She was sure her homelife would be far worse.

Next to her, she heard Duke let out a sigh, before she spoke up.

“Like I said, she’s coming with me- wait, they don’t know my address, right?” she whispered to Heather, who shook her head. “Okay, yeah, she’s coming to stay with me. As in, for a  _ while. _ ”

Her mother raised a brow, her father’s expression remained unchanging. “Is this true, Heather?”

Heather averted her gaze, not knowing what else to do other than nod her head in defeat.

“Care to tell us why?”

“Not particularly, no,” she mumbled.

“Speak up, dear.”

Heather inhaled deeply. “ _ No. _ I don’t want to tell you why.”  _ Why would I ever want to tell you anything? Last time I tried to do that, I got PTSD. _ Perhaps that was a bit reductionist, but regardless, the words were on the tip of her tongue, but a cracking dam was preventing it from escaping.

“You can’t expect us to drop something like  _ this, _ Heather,” her father said dryly. “You know you’re in big trouble, don’t you?”

“As always,” she said quietly.

Her mother groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, exhausted. “We tell you to behave  _ again _ and  _ again, _ Heather, and you’ve stopped being surprised by us being mad. Can’t you just get it through your skull to just  _ listen _ to us? Perhaps then you wouldn’t have to sneak your friends into the house.”

Her words felt like needles poking her chest. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not!” Duke barked. “Heather, you’re getting the hell out of here  _ because _ of them! Don’t let them make you take one step back into that building.” She didn’t expect her to grab her arm, pulling her further away from the door just in case Heather decided to step back inside

“Excuse me?” her mother’s glare grew a little more dangerous. “Heather, care to explain what she’s talking about?”

Heather pursed her lips. “It’s nothing. Just me being emotional.” She tried to loosen Duke’s grip on her, but she wasn’t letting go. “I said something I didn’t mean.”

“ _ Such as? _ ” The sudden raise in volume made her flinch.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does - I’m sure your father is just as interested as I am.”

Heather turned to Duke. “Heather, please, just let go. You’re making it worse.”

Duke stubbornly tightened her grip. “No. It won’t get any worse if we just go.”

“I can’t go - they’re  _ right there. _ Let’s face it, Heather, this was only going to happen with me not having to face them at all.”

“Then face them now so you don’t have to do it again!”

“ _ No! _ ”

“Heather, please don’t go back in the house,” she begged, her eyes becoming glassy. “You’ll just end up hurting yourself.”   


“You don’t know that.”   


“Neither do you!”

“Hurting yourself?” Heather somehow forgot that her parents could clearly hear their conversation. She turned back to her mother, who had stepped closer to them both, glowering at her in particular. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing, I-”

“You’ve been hurting yourself, Heather?” her father spoke up. No empathy could be heard, only sick curiosity.

“No, she hasn’t.” Duke spoke up, having realised her mistake. “You’re misunderstanding me - I meant, she’ll just get hurt by either of  _ you _ if she goes back in there.” That seemed to be a good save, but while trying to brush away one mess, a whole new can of worms had just been spilled.

“I’ve heard enough. Heather, tell your friend to leave -  _ now _ \- so we can sort this out. Maybe then you’ll stop being so hysterical.” Her father’s tone was stern, and had Duke not been by her side, she would have turned around and not even dared to mutter anything under her breath.

“ _ Hysterical? _ ” Duke echoed in dismay.

“Maybe they’re right, Heather,” Heather muttered. “Maybe moving out was way too much of an overreaction.”

“An overreaction to  _ what, _ exactly?” Duke hissed, lowering her voice. “Them being completely absent at best?”

“Who knows! Maybe it is!”

“It isn’t if you could get hurt.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t get hurt if-”

Heather was cut off by a high-pitched, ear-piercing scream. She jumped, stumbling against Duke in the process, and looked back to her mother who seemed to have fled away from her, further down the path with a look of terror in her eyes. Both her and her father seemed to be looking in the same direction, and Heather had no idea what it could be, that is until she felt a tickling sensation crawling up her arm and her mother screech,

“Heather, what is that… that  _ thing _ on your arm?” She looked pale, like she was about to pass out. She grabbed her husband’s sleeve and tugged on it commandingly. “Joel, get rid of it!” 

“What?” Heather looked down at her arm to see Almond had, at some point, slipped out of her palm and was now taking a detour up her arm, and seconds before her father marched over to swipe her off, she flinched back and shielded her from the hand coming towards her. “No! No, don’t touch her!”

Her father paused, but didn’t respectfully make any space. He just dropped his hand and scowled. “ _ Her? _ ”

“”Heather,  _ get that ghastly beast off of you! _ ” her mother spat. “It looks poisonous!”

“It’s not poisonous, it’s a cockroach!” she retorted. Her father’s nose scrunched up in disbelief.

“I have never seen a cockroach that big. It looks awfully  _ exotic. _ ”

“Well… it  _ is -  _ these ones are based in Madagascar.” She pursed her lips, suddenly ashamed of that knowledge. “...Isn’t that cool?”

“How do you know that?” her mother questioned, still too terrified to come any closer. “Heather, drop that thing on the floor right now! There could be more of them.”

“I…”  _ She’s my pet. _ “I just… recognised the species.”

“How did it get here if it’s from  _ Madagascar? _ ”

“I… it’s… I…” She took another look at her parents disgusted faces, the same disgusted faces they would give her when she was young, whenever she brought in a handful of snails, a hoard of ants collected in a bowl, a grasshopper sitting on her palm, which she always considered so lucky with how jumpy the things were. She straightened herself up and her brows knitted in determination. “I bought her. She’s my pet.”

A tense pause that felt far longer than the couple of seconds it truly lasted fell on them, before her mother yelled, “ _ What! _ ”

Wincing at her volume, she repeated herself. “She’s my pet.” She looked back down at her. “Her name is Almond.”

Her mother gaped at her, shocked and appalled by the very notion. “Heather…  _ it _ is a freak of nature! They sell cheap pesticides for those things - they’re not  _ pets. _ ”

“Also,  _ young lady, _ ” her father’s low voice rumbled with animosity, “we didn’t approve of this…  _ purchase. _ ”

“I know. That’s why it was a secret,” she grunted as she moved Almond back down to her palm, only to have her begin to crawl up her arm again. “I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

“But you did it anyway,” her father growled. “As usual.”

“Mhmm.” She gazed at Almond with admiration. “It was worth it.” She stroked her smooth back gently, no hissing sounds erupting from her.

“Heather, for  _ goodness’ sake, _ ” her mother griped, running her fingers through her perfectly groomed hair, causing strands to perk out of place. “Why can’t you just let these things  _ go? _ You’re nearly eighteen and you  _ still _ don’t have your act together! You should be preparing for college, not pretending to run away with friends and treating vermin with more consideration than your own relatives. I can’t tell what’s worse - this, or the excessive partying you get up to!”

_ Excessive partying? _ She raised a brow at her.  _ Is that a nicer way of saying ‘slutting about’ in front of Heather? _

Scorning at her, she gave a dismissive huff. “Does it matter? I feel like everything I do upsets you, mother.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t upset her so much if you just grew up and  _ let these childish things go, _ ” her father scolded. She looked up at him helplessly.

“I can’t exactly  _ let my pets go, _ father.”

All she was given in response was an eyeroll, before a hand came down on her arm, hitting her. Not hard, mainly because it wasn’t aimed at her, but instead the innocent creature sitting on it. It took her a moment to realise what had happened, and had she realised half a second later, she would have seen the horrifying sight of Almond, on the floor, on her back with legs waving about in the air, completely defenseless against the shoe coming down to crush her into a pulp.

“ _ NO! _ ” she screamed, diving onto the floor and scraping her elbows and knees against the pavement as she did so. She hardly cared, though, she didn’t even care that her father had been so close to stomping on her already injured hand. All that mattered was uncupping her palms and seeing Almond, still alive, though still on her back. She flipped her over gently and picked her back up, making sure to hold her close, away from anything that may hurt her, and though she knew she looked ridiculous lying on the ground, curled up in a fetal position all to protect a tiny little insect from a fate so many bugs succumbed to, an overwhelming sense of enragement flooded through her upon realising what had just happened. She lifted herself back onto her feet with one hand, grateful for Duke’s assistance in pulling her up. She offered her a smile, before turning back to her parents with a snarl she only ever used for the most despicable students at school.

“You just tried to  _ kill her, _ ” she spat furiously at her father. “She’s my pet -  _ my _ pet, and you tried to  _ kill her. _ ”

Her father seemed unphased, if not mildly irritated by her sudden attitude. “We cannot have you getting attached to things as dirty as  _ cockroaches, _ Heather. It’s for your own good.”   


“Oh, it’s  _ always _ for my own good, isn’t it? Why don’t I believe that? Why do I get the feeling it’s for  _ your _ good and not mine?”

Her mother eyed her dangerously. “Heather, don’t answer back to your father-”

“Why do I have to give up the things  _ I _ want and the things that make  _ me _ happy? Why can you never indulge me in  _ anything? _ Because I disappointed you somehow? Are you going to disown me for having a pet  _ cockroach _ now?”

“Heather, quit being ridiculous-”

“Why do you think I just exist to fit in some sort of pre-planned mold? Everything -  _ everything _ I do is somehow wrong, And I’m not stupid, I know that out of an unplanned child, the least you would want is somebody you could proudly boast about, someone with good grades and medals for you to flaunt to your friends and family, and you didn’t even get that, but how is that  _ my _ fault? Why do  _ I _ have to suffer because the goddamn condom slipped off?”

Her vulgarity made them both widened their eyes in surprise and disgust. Her mother opened her mouth again to try and talk her down, but Heather was so,  _ so _ sick of her talking.

“Would it fucking  _ kill _ you to just  _ care _ about me? For once? Just take notice of my interests? Give me a hug when I’m looking down? Help me with my homework, even? It’s no wonder I’m so closed off from my friends, I was  _ taught _ to be by two people completely and utterly  _ useless _ at their job!” Her throat was beginning to ache, but that was fine. She never thought she’d ever say such things in front of them, but somehow, saying them was not only satisfying, but also such a  _ relief. _ The dam had broken, and now everything was spilling out. “You weren’t even there for me when I was  _ raped! _ ”

A sense of panic appeared in her mother’s eyes, and with how she looked at Duke anxiously, Heather knew exactly why. She could have smirked, had she not been so distraught.

“Now, Heather, I think you’ve said quite enough-” she tried to silence her, but Heather refused to stay quiet.

“You told me it was my fault and  _ left _ me. I don’t remember much from that night, but I remember sitting in my room, alone, with not an  _ ounce _ of comfort. Not even a fucking hug, all because you think that I somehow deserved it.” She began to splutter. “And you know what? I believed you. I believed you for so long -  _ far _ too long. And not to push the blame for half the shit I’ve done in the past onto you, but I can tell why I’m so fucked up. No  _ wonder _ I ended up hurting myself - no  _ wonder _ keep thinking I’ll do it again whenever I’m around you, because that’s all you do! You just hurt me, leave me to bleed, and blame me for standing where the knife was heading! Oh, and then you expect me to clean up the wound, of course, because when have you ever offered me a helping hand? God, I’m so tired.” Her hand ran over her face, wiping away the tears building up in her eyes. “I’m so, so tired, why couldn’t you just…” Her hand fell, and she looked at them both, pleadingly. “Why was it so hard to just love me?” She actually paused, wondering if she’d get an answer. When she didn’t, she prompted them again. “Am I that difficult to love?"

She, again, waited for a response, but all she was given was them exchanging a discontented look with one another, before looking back at her sorely.

“Go inside, Heather,” her father commanded. She was dismayed - had her words not even chipped whatever stone casing trapped their hearts?  _ Do they not care enough to even listen? _

“No,” she said, standing as tall as she could and holding her father’s gaze as stubbornly as she could, ignoring how her legs were quivering and eyes were most likely watery and bambi-like.

“I won’t repeat myself,” he growled, his arm slowly raising to point towards the door. Heather snarled bitterly.

“I will,” she shot back. “ _ No. _ ”

“Speaking more won’t do you any favours, Heather,” her mother spoke up, actually daring to move closer to her despite the cockroach still being in her hand. “Do as you’re told, and  _ go inside. _ Don’t make this any harder for yourself.”

Heather decided to remain silent, as she said, but had no intention of obeying beyond that. Instead, she looked at Duke, who had taken a step back to watch the whole argument from the outskirts, caught her gaze knowingly and silently nodded to her, before looking back to her parents with a composed expression, and giving a calm, yet loathsome farewell,

“Fuck you.”

Before she could listen to their lectures about foul language, she darted towards her car, while Duke ran to her own. She hurriedly placed Almond back in her enclosure and moved the tank to the passenger seat, then hopped in and fastened her seatbelt as quickly as she could. She could hear her parents yelling after her, “Heather, get back here, Heather, don’t you dare leave,” but she did what she was apparently best at, and didn’t listen. She just listened to their voices zone out before she even started driving, so when she was on the road and long gone, it was strange hearing nothing at all, like she hadn’t realised the song playing as background noise had ended.

The drive to Duke’s felt short and also incredibly long, and stepping out of her car and breathing in fresh air was a strange feeling. Duke had already parked in her respective space outside her house, Heather had parked further down her road as to not look suspicious. Cockroach enclosure in hand, she sauntered towards Duke, who was waiting for her with the suitcase she had filled with her favourite belongings. She gave her a simper that felt so sweet, and spoke,

“My parents and brother went out today - we have time to unpack.”

Heather slowly nodded.

“We don’t have to unpack everything yet.”

Heather nodded again, and watched as Duke grabbed a bag, the suitcase and some extra clothes until she could carry no more, and led her to the house. They entered quietly enough for Bear to not come running to the door, and quickly moved upstairs into Duke’s room. Heather placed the cockroaches’ tank next to Bubblez’ and Duke dropped Heather’s belongings by her closet, and with all weight finally lifted off of her shoulders, Heather walked over to Duke’s bed and sat down, taking much needed deep breaths to relax her tense body. The mattress sank next to her and she looked up at Duke who offered a warm smile that comforted her more than her parents ever had, and she fell right into her arms, resting her chin on her shoulder and shakily sighing. Hands stroked her back soothingly, so when the reality of her situation truly hit her, it didn’t hurt nearly as much.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For getting me out of there.”   


Duke rested her chin on her head. “It’s alright.”

Heather bit her lip as she buried her face in the crook of her neck.

“Can you hold me for a bit? Please?” she murmured weakly. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Duke chuckled lightly. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

Heather smiled to herself, her heart fluttering and her body warm. “Don’t worry,” she replied. “That’s all I need."

**Author's Note:**

> get. their. asses.
> 
> sorry this took so long !!! this was a bitch to write for some reason.
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


End file.
